Chapter 72: My Dark Prince: Chapter 71

The carpet swallowed my whimper as I rode out the post-orgasm haze.

I lifted my cheeks off the plush wool and looped my fingers around Oliver’s neck. “I need you inside me.” The words ripped from my mouth without permission. A statement, a plea, a simple fact of life.

Beside me, Oliver propped his head onto his fist, staring at me with sex-drunk eyes. He shook his head. “Can’t do it without kissing every inch of you first.” In fact, his lips still glistened with my wetness.

“Your terms are acceptable.” I unzipped the back of my dress in a rush, before thinking better of it and pulling it over my head like a toddler.

A small chuckle wafted my way. “You asked for this. This can’t count as the winning fuck I got from making you orgasm with your bikini on,” he warned.

“Keep threatening me with a good time.” I fell back to my knees, pushed him against the wall, and undid his pants. “And we’ll see what happens.”

It was liberating, not having to try to hate him. More liberating still was my ability to grab his cock in my fist and bend down to give it a kiss.

“You don’t have to—” Oliver groaned.

“Oh, I want to. I missed it.”

“In that case, let me find a less awkward position.” He slid his back up against the wall and fisted my hair, tugging it so our gazes met. “You look beautiful on your knees for me.”

“Wait till you see my lips around your cock.”

He grabbed himself by the root and guided his cock into my lips. “Just remember you are the most precious woman in my life.”

“Why are you reminding me this?”

“Because I’m about to treat you like a dirty whore.”

A shot of thrill rolled through my spine. I never pegged myself as someone who liked dirty talk, but coming from Oliver’s mouth, I was pretty sure I’d be game to hear his supermarket list.

I moved to grab his cock and wrap my lips around it, but he beat me to it, fisting his hardness and guiding it into my mouth, his other hand still coiled around my hair. I opened up to accept. Instead of shoving his thick erection inside, he grazed the crown along my lips, as if it were lipstick.

I moaned, on the verge of coming apart.

“Your face is exquisite,” he groaned, guiding his crown along my jawline, tracing it with his cock. “I cannot wait to fuck it.”

“Nothing is standing in your way other than this little monologue.”

He awarded my sassiness by yanking my hair, extending my neck, and forcing me to look at him. “You’ve been exceptionally mouthy ever since you barreled your way back into my life.”

I squinted up at him. “I haven’t barreled anywhere. You literally crashed a set—”

“See? That’s what I mean.” His hold on my hair tightened, and he thrust his cock deep into my mouth. “Running your mouth a mile a minute, trying to get a rise out of me whenever possible.”

He hit the back of my throat, sparking a gag reflex I thought would make me vomit my lunch all over his penis. Luckily, I swallowed it down. Ollie was big.

At his words, I groaned in protest, still full of him. His cock explored the inside of my mouth. I sucked on it – hard. He hissed out of pure, unabashed desire.

“You better hold onto my ass, sweetheart.” He grabbed my arms, circling them around his legs. My fingernails dug into his skin. “Because I’m about to fuck your mouth so hard you’ll thank me for leaving your teeth intact.”

My heart jumped in my chest. This was the hedonistic, fuck-you Oliver I’d gotten to know in recent weeks. And I could no longer deny it – I liked this guy. He was fun, he was quick, and he was a little dirty. He always kept me on edge.

Ollie’s thrusts into my mouth became feral, long, and jerky. Like he was losing control of himself – or already lost it. Each time his crown hit the back of my throat, I groaned, more saliva pooling on my tongue and mixing with his salty precum.

My knees ground against the carpet as he impaled my mouth, and I knew he was close.

“Rub your pussy against my leg, Briar,” Oliver instructed, his voice strained but in full control. “You’re so fucking wet for me, baby.”

I gurgled on the juices in my mouth, humping his leg as he slanted it forward for me. With my underwear still twisted to the side, my clit hit his bare skin immediately.

The friction, the tease of his skin against my bundle of nerves, undid me. This climax flew me into another galaxy as Oliver continued pumping his dick into my mouth. Saliva and precum dribbled down my chin and into the space between my tits. It was filthy. It was depraved. And it was pure perfection.

“I didn’t come. Not yet.” He pulled out of my mouth, and I wanted to cry I missed him so much already. “Our first time should be on a bed. Come.”

He grabbed my hand – how was he so poised? – and rushed down the corridor to the master bedroom. I stumbled behind him, giggling. When we reached the master bedroom he stopped, gathered me into his arms, and carried me.

It took me a second to register my surroundings. He’d set up the room honeymoon-style. Lit scented candles scattered around the dresser and credenza, chocolate-dipped strawberries and cherries sat in a bowl beside a bucket of chilled champagne, and blue rose petals peppered the pressed linen sheets.

“This is how it should have been that first time.” Ollie stared deep into my eyes as he carried me to bed. “Perfect. Just like you.”

“Ollie.” I looped my arms around his neck. “It was still perfect at the time. I don’t regret losing my virginity to you, even if my heart broke after. In that moment, for the first time in my life, I felt whole. I wouldn’t trade it for any other memory in the world.”

He laid me down on the mattress so softly I thought I would cry. Slowly – oh, so slowly – he removed my dress and underwear. He unclasped my heels, kissing the soles of my feet as I stared at him with lust-drunk eyes.

He kissed a path to my ankle, then up my inner thigh. “God, you are beautiful.”

His lips touched and caressed every inch of me, just like he promised, before he removed his own clothes and pressed home. I spread my legs wider, allowing him access, signaling my total and complete submission to him.

There was no one else. There never was. It was always Oliver von Bismarck.

His girth shocked me. With my orgasm, I thought I’d be ready, but he struggled to slide in. I clenched around him on instinct, unsure how I’d managed this fifteen years ago.

He closed his eyes and grunted, burying his face inside my neck. “You’re going to be the death of me.”

“So, my plan is working.”

Oliver chuckled, his hot breath shooting my hair up in every direction. “It is.” He was still lodged inside me, not moving. “I don’t think my cock can take fucking you.”

“What about your heart?”

“Even less,” he admitted.

“Hey.” I grabbed his face, forcing him to look at me. “Enjoy this. Stop letting one moment define your entire life. Some mistakes don’t deserve the weight we give them. Their lessons are enough. Let go of the memory but hold onto the lesson. That’s the best you can do.”

Something relaxed in his face. His muscles loosened, even as they held his weight, so he didn’t crush me. It was as if he finally agreed to let himself go.

With a searing kiss, he withdrew his cock from me and thrust in again. My eyes flung wide open from the shock of it. His kisses became more urgent as he moved inside me, fusing into me, making love to me. His breaths came out ragged and fast. Two beads of sweat trickled down his temple, merging together at his jaw.

I couldn’t get enough of him.

Back arched, I cried out his name, letting him pump into me like a drill. The buildup inside me felt like a rubber band stretching painfully tightly.

“Fuck, I’m coming,” Oliver panted, kissing my face again and again.

“So am I.”

And when the rubber band snapped for both of us, when we clutched onto each other and whispered each other’s names like a secret, I knew I wasn’t in love with Oliver von Bismarck again.

The truth was, I never stopped loving him.